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He smiled against my lips. “I guess I should’ve sprung for the matching earrings.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and stared up at the man I was so fortunate to have in my life. “Next time?”

“Next time,” he confirmed. “How are you feeling? You doing okay?”

I nodded. “I’m okay.”

“You eat breakfast and lunch?”

“I did.”

“Therapy scheduled?”

“I’m still researching, but I have narrowed my list down to three counselors.”

He pressed his lips against mine. “Good. Let’s get a move on. I don’t want to miss our reservation.”

“I’ll be right behind you,” I promised.

He kissed me again before leaving, and I took one last look at the necklace in the mirror before following.

***

I wasn’t sure what I’d expected when Hart told me he owned two apartment buildings, but it certainly wasn’t this.

The first property was a beautiful, three-story brick building with manicured landscaping, covered parking, and large windows overlooking a quiet residential street. Warm light spilled from many of the windows, and a small playground sat behind a wrought-iron fence. I was blown away by a sign that mentioned a dog park.

“This is yours?” I asked as he pulled into the parking lot.

“It is. I’ve owned it for three years.”

“The whole building is yours?”

He glanced at me. “Nah, Sugar. Just the parking lot.”

I rolled my eyes, and he chuckled, putting the Bronco in park. “There are twenty units here, and another twelve at the other property.”

I stared at the building again in awe. I was proud of what he built for himself. My pride didn’t come from the income his properties generated, but from the fact that he provided safe, well-maintained homes for his residents.

“I’m so proud of you, Sweet Hart.”

“Thank you, Sugar.”

“I’m not dating a slum lord,” I teased.

“Get out,” he demanded, laughing as he climbed out of the truck.

I followed him around to the back, where he’d somehow managed to fit enough groceries to stock a small supermarket.

“Alright,” he said, opening the rear hatch. “First stop is Ms. Taylor. She’s got two kids, so make sure we grab the boxes marked T.”

He whipped out a collapsible wagon. We loaded it up, and there was still more to carry.

“We’ll have to make a few trips,” he said, handing me a few bags. “Come on, Sugar.”

I followed him up the walkway, still taking in the property. We reached apartment #4, and I could already hear the kids on the other side roughhousing before the door opened.

Hart knocked. “Ms. Taylor! It’s Hart!”